Who Doesn't Like Superheroes?
by Cortexikid
Summary: "Is he your boyfriend?" Connor asked. Before Felicity could respond, he continued, "I think he's boring. He doesn't even like superheroes! Who doesn't like superheroes? They're heroes, with super powers!" he exclaimed, sounding personally offended. Felicity smirked, "well, I like him." Connor nodded, "but you like my dad more…" Can be read as part of The Connor Hawke Chronicles.


**Who Doesn't Like Superheroes?**

**By Cortexikid**

**A/N: So I'm kinda falling in love with writing this Connor Hawke series. And procrastinating hard from finishing my thesis. This is the result. Again, these instalments are in no particular order, and can be read as one-shots. Others included in this Connor-Hawke-verse are "Every Kid Loves Video Games" and "Mischievous Matchmaker."**

"Hold on, I'll be right there…" Felicity Smoak called out, hopping on one foot to slip on her right high-heel, her nerve-endings tingling with anxiety, as a loud knock sounded on her door.

Before she could move an inch, the knocking grew more persistent, the person behind the door thumping on it frantically.

With a furrowing of her eyebrows, she traipsed over and quickly swung it open wide.

"Well somebody's a little eager to see me all dressed—Connor?" Felicity gaped as the young boy enveloped himself around her waist, hugging her tightly, looking the very picture of what she inwardly called the 'Trail-Version Oliver' in his little green hoodie.

"Hi Felicity!" he yelled excitedly, his voice slightly muffled as he pressed his cheek into her side.

Felicity squeezed him back (always a sucker for the kid's baby-bear hugs) but focussed her attention on the 6'1", gently-smiling, Full-Version Oliver.

"I—"she broke off, ignoring the fluttering in her stomach at his gaze, not knowing how to continue.

"Your hair looks funny," Connor noted as he stepped back to stare up at her.

"Connor!" Oliver scolded, his eyes breaking from Felicity for a moment, before tilting his head, his stare focussed again, as if he were drinking in her current state of dress, which was, if she did say so herself, very fancy, in her little black dress with her hair curled and spilling over her shoulders.

"I meant funny-good, not funny-bad," the boy grumbled, as the tech genius worried her bottom lip and avoided their gazes.

"You look beautiful," Oliver said suddenly, causing her heart to jolt, a flash of something passing over his face too quickly for her to identity, "I'm sorry, you're obviously going out, we should have call—"

"No!" she claimed. His eyebrows raised.

"I mean, yes," she continued, swallowing, her throat suddenly dry, "I—I am going out but…you—you guys never have to call beforehand. I mean, I'm here like 90% of the time when I'm not in work at either of my jobs, or with you guys one way or another, so it would be a little silly if you always had to call me to check if I'm here, not to mention a waste of your—"

"Felicity," Oliver cut her off mid-babble, a small smile spreading across his face.

"Felicity?" another voice questioned before she could draw breath.

Oliver's smile dropped as he turned sharply, his face briefly 'Arrow-ing' before slipping back into something a little less intense, but not completely relaxed either, at the sight of a tall, thin, dark-haired man with a bunch of roses in one hand, and what looked like a box of chocolates in the other, approached.

"Jack!" Felicity exclaimed, her eyes as wide as saucers when he took a step closer to her townhouse.

She could feel Oliver's eyes burning a hole into her skull, but couldn't bring herself to look at him.

"Who are your friends?" Jack asked, staring confusedly at the young boy who suddenly looked as if something rather pungent was placed under his nose.

"I'm Connor Jonas Hawke, who are you?"

Oliver shook his head at his son's bluntness, as the other man stared silently down at the boy.

"Please excuse my son, he must have left his manners at home today. Hi, I'm Oliver Queen," he turned on his infamous Queen charm, flashing a faux-grin and offering his hand for the man to take.

Felicity watched this interaction feeling as if she were having some sort of outer body experience. Her two worlds that she worked so hard to keep separate, were now spectacularly colliding…

"Jack Dennis," her date murmured, reaching out and shaking Oliver's hand, it seeming to last quite a while before he pulled away, his eyebrows wrinkling.

Felicity's gaze zeroed in on that, and filed it away for later. Behind her, she heard the familiar sound of the crime alert sounding on her work-tablet. It seemed some sort of wrongdoing was being committed in Starling City, right this second.

_Awesome timing as usual._

"So…um…are we still on for our d—"

"Uh…yes, yes," she cut Jack off, shuffling from side to side at her door, peering at him from around Oliver, who had seemed to only realise now that he was standing in the way.

"Oh we should probably…" he motioned, trying to manoeuvre himself and Connor out of the way, but somehow ending up stepping over the threshold and into Felicity's hallway, where the younger of the duo, then proceeded to rush towards the little table where her leisure-tablet lay.

"I bet you haven't beaten my high score in Angry Birds," he called gleefully over his shoulder as he ran to living room.

Oliver stepped forward, eyes following his son.

"Con—"

"It's okay," Felicity halted him with her hand on his chest, "um…you know how he gets, he's obsessed with that game, so I'll give him in a few minutes. I—I'll go put these in water," she stepped around him, and towards Jack and clasped the roses, leaning forward to smell them.

"They're beautiful, thank you," she smiled, ushering him inside.

"Come in, I'll just be a minute. Oliver, would you help me in the kitchen?" she threw him a side-glance, knowing he picked up on her tone.

Nodding, Oliver stepped towards the kitchen.

"Jack, the living room is just through there. Make yourself at home," Felicity motioned, before following her friend hurriedly, without a backwards glance.

Entering the kitchen, she quickly turned and closed the door behind her, before placing the roses on the table and snatching up her tablet, entering her password, without saying a word to Oliver.

"Felicity what—"

"B & E in progress, Mason's industrial warehouse downtown, surveillance shows multiple perps. You didn't hear the ping just now?" she whispered loudly, leaning as close to him as she allowed herself, confused at his distraction, as usually he had ears like a bat.

At his silence, she chanced a glance up at him, finding him a little closer than she thought, their bodies barely two inches apart. Flushing, her breathing laboured, she fidgeted with the hem of her little black dress, before clearing her throat.

"So…how are we gonna play this?"

A flash of confusion passed over his face.

"We? No._ I'm_ gonna drop Connor off with Raisa, then—"

"There's no time, Oliver. You have to leave now if you want to hood up, and have any chance of catching the perps. We've been monitoring Mason for a week, you can't let our only lead go. Connor can stay here—"

"What about your date?" he interrupted, stepping closer, his eyes boring into hers.

Felicity flushed a deeper crimson as she remembered Jack in the next room.

"I—you won't be that long. We can always reschedule our dinner reservation. The city comes first, Oliver," she said with a firm nod, before putting her tablet down and rummaging through her cabinets, grabbing a vase and filling it with water.

"Shouldn't you get going?" she asked, glancing at him over her shoulder with a fixed stare.

Oliver held her gaze for a moment before breaking into motion, nodding quickly, "okay, I'll be thirty, forty minutes tops, okay? Connor has his backpack and homework that has to be done. If he gets hungry, there's some carrot slices and juice and—"

"Okay okay, I get it, you're Dad-of-the-Year. Get out of here already," she smiled fondly at him, her heart swelling with pride at how well he had adapted to his new role of responsible father.

Despite it never crossing her mind that he would be thrust into fatherhood so soon, when he was, she had faith that while it wouldn't be easy, he would find his footing with Connor.

And he did.

"I'll patch Digg through on the coms," she murmured, snapping out of her reverie, vase of roses in hand.

"But it's his night off. The baby is teething, and he and Lyla haven't slept through the night since—"

"—But he'd kill both of us for keeping him out of the loop. Again," she interrupted, before rolling her eyes, "and if you think I'm not listening in, you're sorely mistaken, now go," she pushed him more forcefully towards the door, until his back was right up against it.

The two stared at one another, Felicity's palm on Oliver's chest as he reached behind him and turned the door handle, mumbling, "I'll be back ASAP. Shouldn't have any problems. But—" he held up his hand as she went to interrupt him, reading her mind, "I'll text Roy for back-up."

Nodding, she watched him go into the living room, hearing him explain quickly to his son that he just had to pick something up from work and that he'd be back soon, before bidding Jack goodbye and slipping out quietly. When she heard her front door close, Felicity took a deep breath, held her head up high, balancing her tablet in one hand and the vase in the other.

It felt like it was going to be a weird night…

* * *

"Okay kiddo, spell 'basketball,'" Felicity instructed to the boy as he sat on the floor by her coffee table.

"B-A-S…" he began, his little face scrunched up pensively," …K-E…T-B-A-L-L," he finished with a satisfied nod and cheeky grin.

"Well done, gold star for you," she laughed, leaning forward and placing another sticker on his already-covered cheeks.

"Now use it in a sentence."

As he thought of his answer, Felicity chanced a glance at her couch companion, who was idly flickering through her DVR.

"He…shouldn't be too much longer," she murmured under her breath, taking note that Oliver had been gone over an hour now.

"It's fine," Jack replied monotonously, giving nothing away.

Felicity's brow creased, but before she could take a breath, she spotted Connor in her peripheral vision, clearly trying to stifle a yawn.

"I think it's someone's bed-time," she mumbled instead, ignoring the boy's immediate protests.

"But Felicity—"

"No buts. PJs on now, buddy. You know where they are…" she began clearing away his books, before clasping his hand and hauling up off the floor, nudging him gently towards the guest room.

There was a beat of silence as the boy left the room, and she stood up to put his backpack away.

"He keeps pajamas at your place?" Jack asked suddenly, his gaze still on the TV.

"Um…yeah. I've bought him a couple of pairs over the last few months," she responded over her shoulder distractedly.

"He must stay over quite a bit. Oliver too," Jack continued, still not looking at her.

Felicity turned on the spot and stared down at him, Connor's backpack still clutched in her hands.

"Well, they are my friends," she began, feeling a sense of irritation spike in her chest at his almost accusatory tone.

"You're great with him, a real natural," he finished, sounding odd as he finally turned to look at her, a hint of something she couldn't name in his gaze.

"Yeah well—"

"What's your relationship to the Arrow?" he cut across her suddenly, leaning forward on the couch, resting his elbows on his knees, his shoulders set, looking determined.

"What—" she gaped, but was cut off by another alert sounding on her tablet. With a frown, she snatched it off the chair and held up her hand, her eyes gluing to the screen, "uh…I—I gotta check on Connor, give me a sec," she rushed, turning on her heel and walking brusquely into the hallway.

"Go," she whispered, activating her comm.

"Felicity, sorry we got…delayed. I'm on my way back. Handed the perps off to Lance, they're being booked now," Oliver's voice wafted into her ear, usually a calming sensation, but now only heightened her anxiety.

_What the hell just happened?_

"I know, I saw…" she trailed off quietly, eyes jerking towards the living room door, paranoid.

"You okay? You sound—"

"I'm fine. Just getting Connor ready for bed, the little guy is tuckered out. I'll see you when you get back," she finished, listening to the sounds of his bike roaring to life, knowing it'd be a while until he got back.

Taking a deep breath, she tip-toed towards the guest room door and peered in, seeing the boy that had taken up such a large space in her heart, sitting on the bed in his Harry Potter pajamas, legs swinging back and forth.

"You all set, kiddo?" she asked quietly, coming around to stand next to him.

"Uh huh," he nodded, climbing into the bed and taking off his glasses.

She took them from him, placing them on the bedside table, waiting as he lay down, before sitting on the edge of the bed and pulling up the comforter, tucking him in tight.

He yawned again as she smiled down at him, ruffling his hair.

"You need anything? Juice, water?"

He shook his head, gazing up at her, his eyelids growing heavy.

"Okay, little man. I'll be in the next room if you need me," she went to stand up, but he grabbed her hand suddenly, his eyes a little more open than before.

"Felicity?" he asked, his voice soft, his eyes darting to the door. "Is he your…boyfriend?"

Her heart hammered in her chest, begging her brain to calm down and not make her say something stupid, or so emotionally scarring that'd it land the kid in therapy for the next twenty years.

"Uh…it's—you see—"

"'Cause I think he's boring," he stated, quite matter of fact.

"Connor…"

"He doesn't even like Superheroes, Felicity, I asked him when you were in the kitchen. Who doesn't like Superheroes? I mean, they're heroes, with super-powers, what's not to like?!" he exclaimed, sounding personally offended.

"That's your deal-breaker, huh?" she smirked with a shake of her head, "well, I…like him," sounding more confident than she felt, Jack's question about the Arrow hanging over her head like a dark cloud.

"But you like my dad more," Connor stated, rather than asked.

Felicity's heart skipped a beat; for two reasons.

The first she wasn't touching with a ten-foot-pole, and the other was the fact that that was the first time Connor referred to Oliver as anything but 'Oliver.'

"Your dad is…my best friend," she responded, standing up and sweeping hair out of the boy's eyes.

"I thought I was your best friend?" he asked with an innocent grin that wasn't fooling anybody.

"You're my _best_ best friend," she chuckled, "now go to sleep, you've got school in the morning."

With that, Connor let his eyes slip closed and Felicity tip-toed out of the room, turning on her heel at the door for one last look at him before switching off the light, leaving the door slightly ajar. Taking a shaky breath, her nerves on edge, she made her way back into the living room, tablet still in hand.

Jack glanced up as she entered the room, having the decency to look a little sheepish.

"Felicity—"

"You were asking me about my relationship, or lack thereof, with Starling City's vigilante?" she asked, depositing her tablet on the chair and folding her arms across her chest, deciding to tackle this conversation head-on and see where it led. She was nervous, sure, but had gotten better at lying over the years.

"Well, yeah…I—remember when we met, and I told you I was working on a story?"

She nodded silently, waiting for him to get to the point.

"I may not have been one hundred percent honest about what that story actually is…"

An icy cold sensation crept up Felicity's stomach at his words.

"You're doing a piece on the Arrow?" she asked, not really needing him to confirm, but still feeling the desire to watch him do so anyway. She was a masochist that way.

"I am an investigative journalist, Felicity. And the Arrow is…well, he's the hottest commodity right now. With everything that happened last year, the death and destruction of the city, the murders of Sebastian Blood and Moira Queen—"

"Don't you talk about her," Felicity cut across him, a flare of anger rising in her veins as the Queen name left his mouth, her eyes darting to the guest bedroom door.

Jack nodded, holding up his hands, clearly trying to think of a different tactic.

"The Arrow he…it was rumoured that he saved you. That you were kidnapped by Sla—"

"Where have you been getting this information?" she interrupted, not wishing to discuss Slade Wilson with someone that was looking more and more like a complete stranger to her.

"I have my sources," he evaded with a shrug, "how is it that you got caught up in a maniac's plan to destroy the city anyway?"

"I was in the wrong place at the wrong time," she responded without a beat.

"Twice?"

Felicity frowned, shuffling on the spot.

"Count Vertigo," Jack clarified, "that story was actually reported on…it taking place at Queen Consolidated, after all."

She knew that. Damn reporters. It was how Barry had known all about it too. Still, this wasn't like when the crime-scene-investigator-turned-Flash-superhero shared his hypothesis that the Arrow had partners, this felt a lot like an interrogation.

"He saved me from being jabbed in the neck by a junkie with a penchant for theatrics, and decapitated with a sword by a psychotic Australian. So? That automatically means I have some sort of relationship with him? You do realise that he fights crime for a living, right? Last time I checked, kidnapping with the intent to murder, was a crime!" she spat, unable to hide her frustration and anger at the situation any longer.

"Do you know the Arrow's true identity?" Jack spoke as if he had not heard her.

"No."

"So you've no idea what he looks like?"

"Apart from being a hot guy in a hood? Nope."

"How do you know he's hot, if you've never seen his face?"

"Well, I'm guessing it's unlikely that under that mask he's Danny Frickin' DeVito."

Jack's eyes narrowed slightly as Felicity's chest heaved, she taking in short breaths, her glare glued to him.

Smoak, 1. Dennis, 0.

"So, what, he's managed to hide his face, despite being only feet from you?"

"He wears a mask."

"He didn't always."

"I didn't know him then."

"That's not what the Starling City Police Report says…"

Felicity gaped, his words hitting her like a freight train.

"You—you've been investigating me? Oh my god," she yelled, before remembering Connor sleeping in the next room, and wincing.

"That's why you asked me out," she hissed, her face heating up as she went back over the last two months in her head, suddenly feeling very foolish.

"No, no, Felicity! I asked you out because I liked you—"

"And to keep an eye on me, apparently. I can't believe this! Who the hell do you think you—"

Jack stood up, his hands raised in surrender.

"Please Felicity, this is not how I wanted to approach this—"

"And how exactly did you want to approach this, Jack? Romance me for a few weeks, then one night bring me out to a fancy restaurant for dinner, liquor me up, and whisper questions about the Arrow in between sweet nothings in my ear?!"

He looked stricken, as if she slapped him full-force. Which really, she was very close to doing.

"I admit," he began lowly, "I came to Starling City with the intent to investigate the Arrow. But then I saw you at Big Belly Burger one night and you intrigued me. I had no idea who you were, or what your history with _him_ was. I just saw a beautiful woman who was spouting facts about the latest tech on the market, while also groaning about how she ate too much but would finish that chocolate shake if it killed her…" he paused, a fond expression on his face, before it morphed back into a more neutral mask.

"I know you know who he is Felicity…and I'm not even asking you to tell me. All I ask is some insight—"

"And I told you, I have none, apart from the fact that I'm grateful for him. He has saved this city more times than I can count, and never looks for anything in return. He is a real life superhero, and I hope he sticks around. Period," her tone final as she shook her head, gesturing to the door.

"Now, I think it's time you lef—"

"Are you in love with Oliver Queen?"

She stopped in her tracks, her back to him. Slowly, she turned.

"Excuse me?"

Jack stared at her, searching for something in her face. After a moment, his eyes lowered.

"I asked if you are in love with Oliver Queen, but I don't need you to answer," he mumbled, and not for the first time that night, looked very uncomfortable.

"I'm…not that it's any of your business but…no, I'm not in love with Oliver," Felicity scoffed, tripping over the words, and refusing to look at him anymore.

"Well, tell your face," Jack grumbled, just loud enough for him to hear.

"What's that suppose to me—"

"Oh come on, Felicity! We've gone on four dates in two months, and on every one of those four dates, you've mentioned Oliver Queen and his son at least two dozen times in conversation."

A silence met his words as the tech genius actively tried to remember just how much she brought them up over the last few weeks. With a startling realisation, she found he was right.

"That doesn't mean anything! Oliver and Connor are very important to me, so of course I'd talk about them! Oliver is my close friend—"

"Who used to be your boss," the investigative journalist spoke over her.

"What's that got to do with anything?"

His silence spoke volumes.

"You ass!" she growled, her face reddening with anger more than embarrassment at his insinuation, "get the hell out of my house."

Jack apparently had the brains to realise when one had outstayed their welcome.

"For what it's worth," he spoke up as she practically pushed him towards the door, "I'm sorry it went down like this, Felicity. I really do like you—"

"Yeah well, I really don't like you, so your loss," she snarled, snatching his coat from the rack and throwing it at him.

"Wait, wait! Just one more thing," he held up his hands as she stepped around him to throw open her door.

"No thanks, I've had my quota of journalistic B.S for one evening. Now—"

"Oliver Queen is the Arrow, isn't he?"

The fact that she didn't flinch at those words spoke volumes about just how far she'd come since the early days of her crime-fighting-career.

"Wow, Jack. You're really getting desperate now," she laughed, throwing open her door.

"No, no, hear me out. I only had my suspicions before. The timeline of when Oliver got back from the island to when the Arrow first appeared. The fact that the city's destruction last year was sparked with Moira Queens' murder. How it's been reported that he would disappear from work functions with little to no explanation, like he did tonight, only to show up again, a little worse for wear. And that's only the tip of the iceberg!

"I mean, nobody really knows exactly what Queen got up to on that island, who's to say he didn't train to become a ninja assassin or something? The Arrow's choice in camouflage is indicative to a more forest-like-environment, or island-like, than someone who trained in a highly populated city. It fits!

"All these ideas have bounced around in my head for months, but it's only when I saw your face just now, after I asked you if you loved him, I realised that you're totally in on it. You have to be. You're in love with him, both versions, I'm not stupid. And what about that little 'would you help me in the kitchen, Oliver' bit? Please. I've heard the way you speak about him, and tonight, how you look at him, and how you interact with his kid. Connor idolises you and you adore him and his father. You wanna play house with Queen and his kid for real, don't you?"

Before she could reply, he was off again:

"And you're always in the midst of the action because you're one of at least two partners, right? That's how Queen can be in two places at once? Someone dons the hood, and he makes sure he's in a very public place, so people will remember Oliver Queen at that party when the vigilante was sighted?

"And you! You cancelled and rescheduled on me a grand total of nine times since we started dating. Nine! In two months. Always saying it's work, even though when I couldn't get through to your cell, I called your work, and they said you'd already left. You have the skills in computer science to be the Arrow's eyes and—"

"Hold that thought," Felicity interrupted him, holding up her hand. "I'll be right back…" she trailed off, taking a step towards her hallway table and rummaging through it, lifting back the false bottom, her eyes falling on what she was looking for.

Taking a breath to steady herself, she walked back towards the door, meeting his eye.

"I'm sorry, Jack. I really am," she paused, her tilted pensively, before shrugging, "well, kinda…"

Before he could do little more than blink, Felicity blew into the pipe-like object in her hand, a dart shooting out of the end of it and piercing him right in the neck.

The blonde watched as it took approximately half a second for him to crumble and fall to the ground with a loud thump, completely out cold at her feet.

"Thank you Amanda Waller," Felicity murmured under her breath, nudging the sole of Jack's shoe with her foot.

"She always did have the best weapons," a familiar voice sounded from her doorway.

Glancing up, she was relieved to find Oliver half of him cloaked in darkness, back in his civilian clothes, looking down at the unconscious from the stoop, with a look of amusement and contempt.

"Oh thank god, I thought I was gonna have to hide him in my closet and hope Connor doesn't go adventuring in the middle of the night as usual," she breathed a sigh of relief, as Oliver began to lift the other man up, closing the front door quietly with his foot.

"I'll tell Roy to come and pick up my car, and get this guy back to his place," he murmured as he executed a perfect firefighter's lift, before depositing Jack on her couch, he sprawling out like an unsightly starfish, mouth hung open.

"I'll have to break up with him again, tomorrow..." she sighed, not looking forward to that conversation one bit.

"How long does that stuff wipe your memory for?" she whispered, panicking that Connor could enter the room at any minute and find her and his dad hovering over an extremely unconscious man. It was doubtful that he wouldn't have questions…

"About twelve hours, so it should do the trick," Oliver replied, glaring down at the man.

It was at that moment that Felicity realised that he wasn't in the slightest pondering why she just shot up her date with a powerful drug-fuelled dart.

"This is not how I usually break up with a guy BTW," she smirked, before her eyes grew cold, "he—"

"I heard," Oliver interrupted before pointing to her ear, "you didn't disconnect your comm."

Her heart lurched.

"So you…you heard…_all_ of that?" her voice barely above a squeak.

"Me too," Diggle's voice suddenly floated into her ear.

_Of course._

"Connor he…he said I was his dad," Oliver's awe-filled voice piped up before she could answer John, reminding Felicity that Oliver had indeed overheard most of tonight's conversations, which only led to her blushing harder as Jack's words rang in her ears.

_You're in love with him, both versions…_

"Yeah he did," she grinned, pride lacing her tone. Knowing just how much this meant to him.

"I'm gonna go check on him, be back in a minute," Oliver threw her a soft smile, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand, the other at his side, index finger and thumb tapping against one another, before he abruptly left the room.

Felicity watched him go silently, beginning to mentally push down on the already-loaded-trunk full of awkward Oliver thoughts and feelings, that had built up over the years and threatened to burst open wide any way now…

"Digg, I'll need you to get access to Jack Dennis' place to search for any Arrow evidence he might have stashed away. I mean, I'm good, but just to be safe. I'm gonna start accessing his laptop remotely now," she mumbled almost to herself, forcing her head in the game, her eyes darting around the room to find her tablet.

"On it," Diggle replied seriously, before his tone morphed into something more teasing.

"You know what your problem is, Felicity?"

"You mean apart from the 180 pound unconscious man on my couch? I don't know Digg…I surround myself with arrow-slinging lunatics, and their army-trained smartasses?" she quipped, kicking off her heels and removing the necklace she only wore on special occasions.

It didn't get more special than this. _How was this her life now?_

"Well yeah," Diggle surmised with a laugh, "but what your real problem is, is that you try to keep your two lives separate. Trust me, I speak from experience, it doesn't work."

"That's easy for you to say now John, your wife knows all about our nightly activities with Oliver," Felicity flinched at how that sounded, a little impressed that her awkward innuendos now extended to include other people in her sexually-charged-musings of Oliver Queen.

"You need to date someone who knows about The Arrow's real identity," Diggle continued into her ear, graciously overlooking her faux-pas.

Felicity shook her head, sitting down on her armchair, her eyes trained on her now ex's sleeping form.

"Which, after dealing with this little mishap, brings us back to two eligible bachelors for my consideration. One of which who lives in Central City, is faster than the speed of light – that description not as much of a ringing endorsement for the ladies as he thinks it is, by the way, and who also happens to totally be in love with his best friend.

"So, really," she sighed, tipping her head back in the chair, eyes closing, a content beam spreading across her face, as she heard soft talking from two of her favourite people coming from the other room, "that leaves me with just Oliver himself…"

John chuckled, sounding far too pleased with her conclusion.

"Exactly."

"Ha, ha…in my dreams," she half-whispered, tiredness taking over, that little confession proof of just how worn out she was.

A beat passed before Felicity suddenly bolted forward on the chair, her eyes snapping open, a gasp escaping from her lips.

"Digg…please tell me Oliver disabled his comm before he got here. Digg? Digg!"

**A/N: So even though he's an investigative journalist, Jack is not my version of Ed Raymond. He's just an ass who will wake up with one hell of a hangover.**

**I have the headcanon that Connor's mom may have given her child Oliver's middle name as a quiet rebellion to Moira's buying her off.**

**Also, I think Raisa is still in Oliver's life, despite us not having seen her in a while and the Queen Mansion staff being let go due to Moira's death and Oliver being broke. I also think Raisa would help out with Connor when Team Arrow are all crime-fighting. They would probably have a bond much like Oliver and she did when he was a kid. Maybe I'll write that sometime. My next instalment will probably be a prequel to this when Oliver first finds out about Connor.**

**I may do a follow up of the morning after this night with more of Connor totally shipping his dad and his best best friend. ~Ck x**


End file.
